


Jacob Frye (40) x Reader: The Dove Effect

by Oreana



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Tragic Romance, tuberculosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8369020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oreana/pseuds/Oreana
Summary: With the reader sick with tuberculosis, Jacob remains by her side.





	

**Author's Note:**

> {IMPORTANT: I am afraid that no more Jacob Frye/Assassin's Creed works will come from me having been harassed out of the fandom for nearly half a year. I've lost my drive and passion for it entirely, but I appreciate the support and love that has come from some of my readers. <3 Thank you all for the fun times, but because of the death threats and other absurd comments thrown my way via Tumblr, I'd rather forget about this fandom entirely. Do not expect anymore updates of these stories.}
> 
> This is also your warning that this is a tragic love story~! I know some people get super emotional and or angry or what have you when their favorite character dies or the reader dies, but I wanted a change in pace from all the loving fluff pieces I’ve done! Please be respectful of this. If you don’t want to read it, back out, lovelies!
> 
> Other things to note: tuberculosis, in this time period, was called ‘consumption’ and not tuberculosis, so for the sake of accuracy, it will be called consumption. 
> 
> Oddly enough to add, it was considered attractive the features tuberculosis would give women and men who were ill with it: thin looks, rosy cheeks, and pale skin. It was labeled the ‘romantic disease’ in some cases and people almost desired to die from this

You hadn’t thought much about the constant coughing, which crippled you every now and again through the harsh and unforgiving winter that year. If anything, the cough could just be the sign of an agitated throat to you, so you passed it off as nothing special or anything to fret about. 

Your own husband, on the other hand—Jacob Frye—was a bit more skeptical and alert to the idea over time. 

“You’ve had that bloody cough for a week or so now, (Y/N),” Jacob pointed out at dinner one evening. “Why don’t you go to a doctor and have it looked at?” 

The idea rattled you, as you didn’t desire to have any bad news given, so you merely shook your head at the idea while urging a plate of food over to the Assassin. “I’ll be fine,” you whispered pathetically, wishing the raw feeling in your throat would cease. Given how violent the coughing fits could get, it hurt to even breathe or swallow sometimes, but you didn’t share that with Jacob. If he knew, he’d urge you to a doctor without another say in the matter. 

Jacob sighed out his frustration, moving the plate of warm food over towards him before noting the smaller amount you had given yourself. “That’s it?” he asked as a means to criticize. Jacob’s hazel eyes maneuvered eagerly over the small bit of rice and a glass of milk you had given yourself for the evening. “Are we out of food again?” 

You waved away the accusation gently, a frown deepening upon your features. “I just don’t feel much like eating a lot tonight, Jacob,” you said quietly, taking to your fork to push the rice around on your plate as even eating that felt unappealing to you. 

The Assassin’s hands slowly closed into fists as he did a slight nod as Jacob always did whenever to acknowledge your words (even if he didn’t agree with them). Without another word on the idea, Jacob leaned across the table to grab your plate and swap it for his. 

“Jacob—!” you scolded lightly, trying to make him stop with your hand outstretched in attempt to prevent the action. 

Ignoring your irritable tone, Jacob dug into the small rice portion you had given yourself to take a bite so giving it back would be pointless. “I can handle this amount of food, but you need to eat,” the Assassin insisted with his mouth mostly full of the rice you had cooked. 

It was true. Jacob had sacrificed his health and energy many times before just so you’d have something in your stomach when food ended up scarce in the home and there was no time left in the day to go to the market. Looking from Jacob back down to the plate he had given you, you cringed at the idea of eating more than what was there. There were a few chopped up pieces of potatoes, rice, bread, and carrots as well, but you couldn’t bring yourself to eat anything but the rice in the end. It was smaller in terms of swallowing and, not as frequently, did it agitate your throat or hurt it like anything else did. 

Seeing you fumble about with the food on your plate, Jacob nasally sighed as he finished chewing the food in his mouth and took a drink of the milk nearby. “(Y/N), you’re going to see a doctor if you don’t eat something beyond the rice,” he threatened. 

Dropping the fork on your plate, you rolled your eyes at his impossible behavior. “Jacob, it’s nothing!” you hissed angrily, placing your hands over your mouth shortly after your retort to barricade the oncoming series of coughs, which shook your body violently. As you pulled your palms back, you noticed the small bits of blood marking your skin and causing you to quickly move your hands to your lap to hide the evidence he would need to urge you to some clinic. 

“You’ve been coughing for several days, love,” Jacob scolded, his fingers drumming upon the wood of the dining table. “Now you won’t eat, and you look constantly fatigued…I cannot help but worry.” 

“It’s probably just the flu,” you passed off, getting to your feet to take the dinner plates to be done with them for the evening. 

“And you don’t see that as worth going to a doctor for?” Jacob chastised angrily, the chair he was upon scratching upon the wooden flooring as he moved fervently from where he sat. 

Your back was turned to him, but you sighed all the same and rolled your eyes yet again at his persistent behavior as you made it back to the kitchen to clean the plates. “I’ll just fetch medicine for such a thing tomorrow and—.” 

Behind you, Jacob stormed towards you and grabbed onto your upper arm to get you to look at him. You were relieved you had already started the water to work on cleaning the dishes as the blood was removed from your palms. “You are going to the doctor, (Y/N)! If I have to take you there myself, you are **_going!_** ” Jacob hissed furiously, his eyes narrowing to show he was serious when it came to the matter of your health. 

“Jacob, I am fine!” you accidentally screamed in return, jerking your arm free of his hold as it had loosened. 

Jacob’s old eyes still gazed upon you with disappointment in your actions, a mixture of hurt somewhere in his sight. The look on the Assassin’s face was more than you could bear, and you found yourself leaving the dishes where they were to head off to the bedroom to be away from him. You didn’t want to believe you were sick…you didn’t want to believe that you could possibly be sick with one of the worst and most deadly diseases ever but the signs were becoming clearer with every passing day—shaking you to your core and making you lose faith that you would live to see another year or so as there was no cure for it…no cure for consumption. 

 

 

You stayed in the bedroom for a time, changing for the evening and remaining in peace until Jacob knocked on the door and opened the wooden entrance halfway to gaze inside. “May I come in, love?” Jacob asked, figuring you were probably still cross with him from earlier. 

You were in bed trying to read to yourself when Jacob appeared, and while you were still upset with the circumstances, you had to admit the aggression unleashed upon him was merely your own fear of what was happening to your body. “It’s fine,” you answered pathetically from where you sat, stilling a minor cough in your abused throat. “You can come in.” Not like you could say differently, the man had to sleep somewhere, and you both shared a bedroom. 

Jacob moved into the room, working his fingers about his necktie to loosen it and let it rest upon the ornate furnished chair not far away from the bed, letting you have your space still as he did need to get undressed for the evening. As you remained locked into your book, you heard the Assassin sigh to gain your attention. “I am sorry,” he apologized, removing his gauntlet next after undoing a few straps, which kept it in place upon his left arm. “I just worry; I hope you understand that, (Y/N).” 

As he was talking, it seemed he didn’t have it in himself to look upon you. Marking your place in the book you were enjoying, you put it off onto the nearby nightstand for the time being. “I am just scared, Jacob,” you responded in return, closing your eyes tightly at having that vocally escape you. “What if I am dying from something…?” 

Upon hearing you say such a thing, Jacob had rushed to your side to take your hand and hold it tightly. “And you would sit here and let it fester within you to where it could possibly claim you? This is why I am urging you to a doctor!” he said in a high whisper, his face inches from yours. “It is better to have someone look at it and treat it then let it possibly destroy your body, love!” 

You flinched, even if his warm breath was soothing and welcoming for the time being given the chill in the air that made you tremble ever so slightly. “I will think on it,” you said meekly, clearing your throat as you worried of another coughing fit. As you attempted to move in for a kiss, Jacob’s fingers redirected your lips elsewhere. 

“I am not going to let you kiss me again until you see a doctor, (Y/N),” he said as a bargaining chip in the matter. 

You nasally sighed, playfully shaking your head at the thought. “You would deny me my one nourishment in life, lover?” 

“If it means your health—gladly,” Jacob smirked, pulling from the bedside in time to finish up preparing for sleep.

 

\--

 

The night was uncomfortable at best. At odd hours you would find a coughing fit waking you from sleep as well as horrible night sweats. You thought going to the bathroom to try and wash your face and drink something to sooth your throat would do the trick and hide any further evidence in your deteriorating health, but Jacob was a bit wiser than that. As you came in from the bathroom after a wash later that morning, you noticed he was holding onto your nightgown and touching upon your side of the bed. 

“Jacob?” you beckoned with worry as to what he was up to while you worked on trying to dry your hair from the bath you just took. 

The Assassin continued to fondle with the gown before turning to look his shoulder at you. The expression said enough—he was frowning with a mixture of worry and displeasure. “Why is your gown wet all over, (Y/N)?” Jacob asked, showing the fabric to you and emphasizing the parts that hadn’t dried from your horrible sweating during the night. 

Struggling to think of a good response, you stammered a bit. “Well, I—.” 

“And the bed as well?” Jacob interrupted, as he could tell in your tone you were hoping to spare some fib. “Are you sweating that badly at night now?” 

Jacob was hardly around given his work as an Assassin, so some nights you did spend them alone. However, since you started showing signs of illness, he had written to the Council and asked to be removed temporarily from the field to be mindful of you and your sickness you claimed to not have. He was now starting to see the symptoms he had missed out on when working, and apparently, he was appalled you didn’t talk of them sooner. 

“How long ago has this been happening?” Jacob asked, watching as you merely stood in the doorway with a towel to cover you as you attempted to stay warm with the fabric your only means to do so. When he saw you look about as if eagerly searching your mind for some answer he could be satisfied with, Jacob snapped. “ ** _Answer me!_** ” 

“Three days ago!” You hastily surrendered the answer, looking away and closing your eyes to be rid of any vision Jacob would instill within you that he wasn’t happy. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Jacob hissed his words, clenching his fingers about the gown, furious that you would be so negligent of your own well being. When you opened your mouth to speak, you had nothing to really say that sounded logical, making Jacob grumble. “The truth now!” 

You flinched, swallowed no matter how much it hurt and you quivered while finding the answer he desired. “I didn’t want to trouble you with my problems, Jacob…I didn’t…I didn’t want to be told I was dying of consumption!” 

Hearing you say such a thing, he lost the desire to even hold onto the measly gown, and it crumpled to the floor. “Consumption?” he quoted breathlessly, moving towards you as he grabbed onto your upper arms as if to demand you take that thought back. “What else has been going on that I’ve not been aware of?” 

You didn’t want to say it, causing your lips to quiver as your eyes lined with tears. Desperately, you tried to fight off Jacob’s eagerness to get you to stand in place. 

“(Y/N), look at me!” Jacob demanded, his hold firm and keeping you still as you were too tired and weak to fight him. “What else has been going on?” 

Looking away from him once more, you sighed out your defeat. “I…I’ve been coughing so badly…I’ve found blood in my hands or handkerchief…” 

“Get dressed,” he urged, removing his hold upon you as he went to your dresser drawer to look for something you could wear. “We are getting you to a doctor and that is final.” 

Your head was swimming with all sorts of thoughts and emotions, causing you to lean against the nearby wall to find some sort of support as Jacob had wandered away from you. Legs weak and heavy as lead from the knee down, you nearly lost your footing as Jacob turned to you and questioned your wellness. 

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” the Assassin asked, running over towards you to grab at your upper arms to urge you towards the bed at least. 

The covers on your body were welcoming. More than anything, you wanted to close your eyes and just go back to sleep, but you were alert and focused (somewhat) as you felt Jacob remove the towel from your naked body. His hand upon your stomach, you flinched at the feel as you had hardly been eating well with him out and about on the field as he was. 

“I’m calling a doctor,” Jacob insisted, covering you back up tightly in the towel for the time being before running to the telephone he had in the house. 

You tried to ease your mind at the thought that everything was going to be okay, but in the end, you could hardly relax. If you were sent off to a sanatorium, who would be around to take care of your husband? His twin sister was in India and while there were other Assassins about, you couldn’t rely on them to take care of the man you loved. 

“Jacob…!” you cried restlessly, opening your eyes to the scene of an empty bedroom as you could hardly hear him on the phone, if that was where he was at the moment. “Jacob, where are you!” You were frantic, yet you hardly had the energy to move. You wanted to see him and speak to him—try to make him reconsider the doctor idea. 

He didn’t respond, but that didn’t stop you from nearly screaming his name in desperation, like some child wanting the attention of a parent. 

Just as your throat began to hurt from the constant cries of his name, you felt his hand upon yours to steady you. “Shhh, I am right here, love,” he whispered near your ear as he tried to sooth your worries. 

“Did you call the doctor?” you asked, fear rattling your quaking tone as you tried to look over your shoulder at him. 

Jacob’s hand gently massaged your scalp to try and sooth your weary and pain riddled body. “I did, and he will be here shortly.” 

“No…No!” you pleaded, turning to your back then to try and gaze desperately into his eyes. “You can’t do this to me, Jacob! What…what about you!” 

“What about me?” Jacob parroted back, scoffing at your question with a small shake of his head. 

“Who is going to take care of you while I am in the hospital…!” you gasped, struggling to find the ability to breathe without it being such a task as it felt like something was blocking your throat. 

Jacob frowned, rolling his eyes at your question. “How about thinking about yourself for bloody once, eh?” he scolded gently, cradling the back of your head. “I am a grown man, love—I will be fine…” In saying such a thing, his tone did derail almost wearily…as though the words were a small lie at best. 

 

 

Upon the doctor arriving and hearing the symptoms, it was easy to diagnose you without much effort—it was consumption. You hardly had a chance to even grieve over the idea as he insisted in getting you to a sanatorium given the fact he didn’t want the illness to spread. There were rare cases that some were able to be healed, but the cases were so unheard of that it left you feeling at the mercy of this disease. 

You were given a bed, which merely lined up with many others suffering the same fate, and a nightgown, light in terms of fabric to help lessen the discomfort of night sweats. 

“This is where you’ll be staying, (Y/N),” instructed one of the many nurses working in the hospital. She motioned towards the cleaned and empty bed. As appealing as it looked on the surface, you couldn’t help but cringe at the idea it would feel like your prison till you found rest in the afterlife. “You will rise early in the morning, find some time for food—three times a day—get you outside to move those feeble muscles of yours, and shortly after dinner, the lights will be out for rest.” 

Turning from the nurse to Jacob, you looked to him pleadingly, desiring for him to get you out of there as fast as possible. If you were to have a slow, painful death, you wanted it to be in the comfort of your own home. 

Jacob held onto your hand, squeezing it tightly with a reassuring nod. 

“What about my husband?” you asked with worry, not wanting to be without Jacob. 

The nurse looked from your fretful features to the man beside you and then back to you once more. “He is not sick, so he will have little reason to be here.” 

“So I am to lie here on my death bed without my husband?” Your tone shook at the thought, causing the nurse and a few nearby patients to look at you rather appalled you would speak of death when people were trying to hold onto faith they would get better. 

“He will be able to visit, but only for certain hours, (Y/N).” The nurse’s tone was hard in answering your question, and it sounded like she wanted to scold you for something you said or did but wouldn’t just yet with Jacob nearby. 

Jacob turned you to him to try and steady your sorrow in the matter as his hands soothingly held your upper arms. “(Y/N), listen to me, love…I am going to visit you as often as I can, alright?” 

Maybe it was a selfish thing to say, but you couldn’t help the matter as now you weren’t sure when you’d die. “I don’t want ‘often’, I want you here beside me every hour…!” 

You could hear the Assassin swallow as he twisted his mouth to the side in thought. Sighing nasally, he was sure it wouldn’t work, but Jacob decided to ask anyways. “Is there anyway I can stay here with her?” 

“If you want her to pass under your care, Sir Frye, you’re welcome to take (Y/N) back home with you to lie to rest on her own bed,” the nurse explained rather matter-of-factly with her hands folded before her gown. “If you desire her ability to heal faster, it is wise you give her time to rest and allow her to heal up.” 

“This is not fair,” you whined quietly, closing your eyes tightly to try and still the tears forming upon them. 

“(Y/N)—,” Jacob began with a sigh. 

“It’s not fair!” you interrupted in a low, cracked whisper. “How am I supposed to be without you?” Your eyes were blinded by your tears, but you eagerly searched Jacob’s face for some sort of answer you could be satisfied with. 

“Think of it like I am merely off on one of my missions again,” he responded a bit more lightheartedly at the matter, trying to get you to smile again at least once that morning. “I always returned to you when I was out and about on those, and I swear, this will be no different.” 

Sniffling back your sadness, you nodded in understanding in the matter. Another coughing fit coming upon you, you grabbed at the blood stained fabric you kept beside you to control the spread of the illness to others. You hated Jacob having to see you as weak as this. 

Jacob’s aged face grew heavier with the burdening thought of your life possibly ending. “I am going to head back home and grab some of your things,” he explained, his hand to your rosy cheek to try and settle your sorrows. “Is there anything important you need me to retrieve, love?” 

“Just one thing,” you responded, tone so feeble and hushed it was nearly impossible to hear. “Can you get me at least the picture of us…? I don’t think I can handle being here without at least that…” 

Jacob smiled a crooked smile, a small breath of a laugh expelling through his nostrils as he nodded. “I can get that and a few other trinkets, (Y/N).” He would have moved to kiss you, but he stalled in his actions, as he knew the nurses nearby would probably scold him or claim him ill upon such an act. “I will return tonight with them before the sanatorium closes.” 

You watched as Jacob hurried away from the scene, taking off to do as he promised. 

When he departed, the nurse then came upon you to whisper in your ear in a scolding manner. “You will not speak of death here in this sanatorium, (Y/N),” she demanded, making you turn to her with a confused and hurt stare as you weren’t even aware that was some form of rule. “The people here are trying to focus on getting better; so please, do not speak such ill thoughts here.” 

“F-Forgive me,” you stuttered, fondling with the handkerchief you held before moving to the bed she was motioning you towards. 

As you lay upon the spring mattress, the nurse grabbed onto the covers and placed them upon you loosely to be sure you were able to move and breathe as needed. “Lunch will be about one this afternoon, (Y/N), so be prepared for that. Afterwards, we’ll move you to the veranda where you will rest in the fresh air.” She moved across the bed and went right to the decorative container there to pour some milk into a glass for you. 

“My throat is still a bit sore from the coughing,” you mentioned, not desiring the idea of drinking anything no matter how soothing it seemed. 

“It will help, (Y/N),” the nurse encouraged, urging the glass to you regardless. 

Knowing it was pointless to argue with the medical staffing, you took it finally and sipped on the cool liquid slowly, flinching from the horrible pain that nearly tried to choke you with its invisible hands. 

“Drink it one bit at a time,” she instructed, folding her hands before her gown once more. “You’ll be given milk at least four times a day to try and relax the throat and aid in the healing.” 

Wiping the stray bits of milk from the corners of your mouth, you nodded at her instructions. Honestly, all you could think and plead for was Jacob’s return. Being surrounded by so many people and the linger touch of death upon you, you needed your husband more than ever.

 

 

Eating was a challenge. When lunch came about, you found yourself picking away at your food as your stomach dared you to even find the courage to swallow anything to fill your empty gut with. Your racing mind and aching heart aided in this dispute and soon, your food had grown too cold for you to bother with. 

The nurses were displeased with the sight, but they didn’t exactly force you to eat anything. They did take the plate from you and insisted that, upon dinner coming later in the evening, you eat something as it would help you in healing. Somehow, you highly doubted that would be the case. How could food make a difference in things? The food was different and of better quality than back home. It seemed diet was a huge part of the healing process, but just the thought of putting anything into your throat made you want to vomit. 

Afterwards, you were given a bit of milk again, and another nurse (one different from before) stayed nearby to make sure you at least drank that. Still, it was painful. It felt like your throat was too swollen with something else to really allow milk down it. 

“Come now,” insisted the nurse, trying to urge you to continue. “You need to try and drink all of it.” 

“But I can’t!” You wanted to cry at nearly being forced to just drink something that felt as though it was doing more harm than good. 

Just as the nurse was tempted to respond, Jacob hurried into the room with a packed case full of things he figured you would need. “What’s all this then?” he asked, placing the luggage down nearby the bed. 

“Jacob,” you sighed in relief, grabbing at his wrist in desperation. 

“She needs to at least drink something, Sir Frye,” the nurse explained in her defense, gesturing towards where you were resting. “(Y/N) didn’t touch her food, and she is only going to get worse if she doesn’t at least drink something.” 

“But I **_can’t!_** ” you cried out again, your voice ragged as it hurt to even breathe properly let alone speak. 

“Hush now,” Jacob urged to you and even raised his hand to the nurse to prevent any argument that may erupt. “Save your energy, (Y/N).” The Assassin turned to the woman then with a heavy sigh. “I will get her to eat, if I am allowed to stay about dinner time, that is.” 

The nurse straightened up at the thought, wondering if that was a good idea it seemed. “Well…we need to take her out to the veranda to get fresh air, and when she comes back, it is more a quiet time for her to relax her body and throat—less pressure on the lungs and all if you still your voice, you see. No visitor should be around for that, Sir Frye.” 

“I can be quiet, Miss…?” he asked curiously, as he wasn’t sure of her name. 

“Abigail,” the nurse responded with a little curtsy. She was a small woman in stature with bits of curly, red hair framing her face from the medical headpiece she had upon her head. 

“I can be quiet, Miss. Abigail—I assure you,” Jacob corrected, reaching for your hand to hold onto it supportively. “I can even help her with fresh air. You won’t have to fret about that.” 

“We don’t want you to get sick yourself, Sir Jacob Frye,” Abigail insisted, a bit of worry in her words at the thought as she moved a single hand to the idea. “You really should be sparing in your visiting hours—.” 

“(Y/N) is **_my_** wife, madam,” Jacob reminded the nurse, cutting her off quickly with a disapproving look in his eyes. “If I decide to be ill with her, then that will be my choice in the end, is it not?” 

Abigail clasped her hands before her gown and her eyes shifted about nervously. She knew Jacob Frye ranked above her in terms of his knighting, really, and she didn’t want to cause a fuss with someone in such status compared to her own. “O-Of course, Sir Frye…I-I will let the nurses and doctors know then.” 

Jacob merely nodded, watching as the woman walked off hastily after grabbing the tray of cold food that you had refused to touch upon. With her gone from sight, he sighed out his aggression on the situation before digging his fingers into the inner lining of his trench coat. “I believe you asked for this specifically, (Y/N),” said Jacob, handing over the old photograph. 

Taking it impatiently, you looked at the old picture, which was taken roughly three or so years ago. It had you sitting in one of your favorite ornate chairs from back home, right in front of the window with Jacob standing beside you with one of his hands upon your shoulder. Faces had to be relaxed in appearance—no smiling—given how long the process was in capturing a moment in time and a single movement could mess it all up. All the same, regardless of the stern and almost emotionless look you both held in the photo, you couldn’t help but smile and hold it close all the same. 

“Was a bleeding nightmare trying to get that thing loose from the picture frame,” Jacob chuckled teasingly, as the picture previously rested in a frame on your nightstand on your side of the bed. “Seems I got it out without harming it though.” 

“Thank you, Jacob,” you said in appreciation, holding it to your chest with a sigh of relief. “Even if you cannot be here every hour…I can at least have this…” 

Jacob smiled briefly at the thought before taking the photo back from you to fasten it to the nearby wall with a tack he had. “There we go,” said the Assassin as he moved then to the luggage he brought with him. “I also brought some of your books you’ve yet to finish reading as well as some extra clothes and…” Jacob paused, rummaging through the baggage upon opening it to show a comb you owned, wiggling it between his fingers to emphasize its presence before putting it back away. “Only things I could think you couldn’t be without, love. Forgive me if I missed anything.” 

You shook your head slowly. “I don’t care about most those things…I just want you here right now,” you admitted weakly, your chest heaving with a desire to cry given the circumstances. 

The Assassin could easily see it there in your expression, making him move forwards to embrace you in a tender manner. “Well, I am here now,” he reminded you quietly as his hand rubbed your back in a soothing manner. 

It seemed the nurses had little to say when it came to Jacob’s desire to be about as he requested. After an hour or so trying to get the fresh air that was requested, you found yourself guided back to that horrible bed once more to be told that reading would be the best peaceful time for two hours to rest and relax yourself during these quiet times of no talking. 

An entire room full of people never felt more deafening when it was full of nothing but horrible hacking and coughing with the occasional sound of pages being turned within opened books. Sitting upon the rocking chair that was allowed your side of the large room, Jacob dug into the belongings he had brought for you to show the select books he knew you hadn’t a chance to read. Sprawling them out on the bed, he motioned to them curiously and whispered to you, “Which one?” 

Biting at your lower lip, you pointed to the center one, as it was part of a series you were trying to read in your spare time, but you hadn’t a chance to move on to the next book. 

Jacob took it into his gloved hand before passing it over to you and taking one of the others to try and read through it in peace himself. Honestly, you knew Jacob wasn’t much for reading, even in his spare time, and the poor man did only last a few minutes before getting bored and putting it down to merely focus on you and the location of the nurses, who were patrolling the room and making sure all was in order. 

Even if you were trying to focus on your book, you could hear him move back and forth in the chair to emphasize his eagerness to do other things. Jacob stretched, looked at the nearby clock, gazed back to you to make sure everything was alright, tried to read once again, and then rocked some more as the time mercilessly ticked by at a sluggish pace. 

You felt awful for him. He was so cooped up, and it showed; and yet, he was doing this all for you. Marking your place, you almost wanted to tell him it was fine to leave, but you halted as another coughing fit was upon you, and you had to quickly grab at your handkerchief to try and stop the illness from going anywhere beyond you. Your chest burned, and you flinched from the horrible ache that crippled you from the act. It was painful, and the worst part of it was Jacob was nearby to witness your deteriorating health. 

The Assassin moved his hand over to your leg to assure you he was there given his firm yet supportive touch. Looking into his eyes was painful, however. Jacob hardly had to say a thing, as his worried frown was heartbreaking enough. You wished this wasn’t happening to you…you wished you were healthy and back at home just waiting for him to return from his missions. 

Why couldn’t things go back to the way they were? Why did God have to be so cruel? 

When the quiet time was up and over, you were given a few more hours of reprieve until food was prepared once more for dinner at seven. You couldn’t help but cringe at the sight of it again. You were hungry, but it was difficult just to swallow your own saliva given how raw and enflamed your throat was… 

Jacob took to the tray when it was passed to him and began to go for the white rice since it was something you would try to eat in the past. Moving the fork about the portions, he guided the chair closer to your bedside with it prepared for you to eat. “Ready, love?” When you gave a sour face to the thought, Jacob cleared his throat disapprovingly. “Don’t give me that now.” 

You tried to change the expression to something a bit more pleadingly, but it didn’t deter Jacob as you had hoped. His free hand upon your jaw line, he prevented you from fighting him on the matter as he urged the rice closer to your lips. You were forced to respond, taking in the rice and swallowing it to the best of your ability. 

The Assassin watched you fight with yourself on how to handle it, causing Jacob to grab for his own handkerchief and position it not far from your mouth as he worried you would spit it out. When you appeared to stop struggling, he wrinkled his brow curiously to you. “Are you alright, (Y/N)?” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. “It just burns on the way down,” you complained as the rice was cooled enough to manage, but it still hurt. 

Looking back over at the plate of food, Jacob cut apart of the tomato slices. “Let’s try this then. It’s a bit cooler and wet. It might sooth your throat.” 

You reluctantly tried that next, but it still felt like the same agonizing process. It felt as though you would be no better off eating wood. When Jacob tried to urge further food in your body, you couldn’t help but shake your head eagerly with your weary eyes lining with tears. “Please, no more…I cannot handle it, Jacob…” 

“You have to, (Y/N)!” Jacob scolded in a low whisper, dropping the fork onto the plate. “If you refuse to eat proper like, you’re going to die from lack of food over this damn consumption disease!” When you didn’t respond and merely looked away, Jacob’s hand found yours. “The food will help. I know it hurts to think of eating right now, but you need to do it…” When you didn’t appear as though you could be swayed, Jacob continued, “…for me?” 

Hearing him say that was like a stab to the chest, and you flinched. “F-Fine…I will try to eat more then,” you admitted reluctantly, allowing Jacob to try and continue the process that evening no matter how agonizing it was.

 

\--

 

The weeks would continue the same as any other. It was early to rise for breakfast, visits with the doctor, lunch, out to the veranda for a bit, quiet time, walks about the sanatorium, then dinner and bed—milk being offered four times through the day about morning, noon, mid-afternoon, and then evening. Jacob could only stop by after lunch and sit through till after dinner to where he would have to leave and head back home. The times without him were agonizing, but you did have the picture of you both, at the very least, and that brought you some comfort. 

However, as you were being checked upon by the doctor one morning, you could tell the man wasn’t pleased with your recovery status. Eating was still a challenge for you, and your body was getting weaker and weaker with every passing day much to theirs and Jacob’s dismay. 

“Breathing is just becoming shallower with every passing visit to my room,” you heard the doctor explain to the nurse in the next room. He was trying to be quiet, but you could make out the words being spared in ‘private’. “Muscle mass is at a low percentage, and heartbeat is even weakening.” The man sighed, tossing his pen down on the desk he was behind. “Looks like we must prepare to lose another this month.” 

“What about Sir Jacob Frye?” the nurse asked nervously. 

Hearing her mention him, you flinched at the thought…you didn’t want to imagine leaving him behind if your fate was indeed preparing for you to just die in this horrible hospital. Who was going to take care of him…who was going to comfort and love him when you were gone? The thoughts crippled you and brought you into a silent crying fit. 

“I’ll talk to him when he comes in today,” the doctor reluctantly said after a moment of silence. 

For once, you dreaded the idea of Jacob coming to see you. You didn’t want him to be given this sort of news. 

The nurse and the doctor wouldn’t explain the outcome of the visit. Even if people were obviously dying, they wanted to keep moral high nonetheless, and the nurse escorted you back to your bed. On the way back, you pretended you heard nothing and merely obeyed emotionlessly. 

As you sat upright in your bed and stared ahead at the potted plants, which lined the center of the room to give it an inviting feel, you heard Jacob enter the area. You wanted to smile in greeting, but you lacked the drive on your pale expression. It wouldn’t matter in the end anyways, as the doctor was quick to intervene. 

“Sir Frye,” he began, hurrying beside Jacob. “Can I have a moment of your time?” 

Jacob halted, gazing from you to the doctor with a rather impatient look to him as it was obvious he wanted to just be beside you and make sure you were okay. “Alright,” he responded, being urged to the back near the doors he just entered where the doctor could talk to him in private. 

You watched, regardless of the nurse trying to insist you drink your milk as she was. Your eyes upon the two talking in the back, you could only watch their body movements. Easily, you could tell when the news sunk into Jacob, as he was embracing himself and leaning against the wall with his head lowered—trying to maintain his sanity in the idea. Shortly after, his hands moved to his face, then to his hair where he seemed to grip at the strands in desperation of the news to be some cruel joke. 

The doctor tried to comfort the Assassin, but Jacob was quick to urge the man’s hand away from his shoulder. You couldn’t hear what was being said, but Jacob was being expressive and angry. Seemed his mouth was forming the words ‘you fix this’ while jabbing the man on the chest with his index finger, but you couldn’t be too sure. 

When the conversation finally ended, Jacob hurried over towards you while moving his hands to his eyes to possibly be rid of the tears there as he made it back to your bedside. As the nurse departed from the scene shortly after, Jacob cleared his throat, which was obviously sore and dry from the news. “Afternoon, love,” he said weakly. “How are you feeling?” 

You managed a broken smile, which quivered without hesitation, unable to understand what Jacob was probably going through. “I am fine,” you lied pathetically, words almost a gasp as it hurt to say much. 

Jacob strained his smile in return before grabbing at your nearby hand to kiss upon your bony wrist before resting his forehead against the back of your hand as if to beg for strength in the information he just received. “You’re going to get through this, (Y/N),” Jacob insisted, nearly choking on those words heavy with despair. “I swear it to you…” 

You wanted to disagree, but you felt that now wasn’t the time to really provide Jacob with further evidence you both were fighting a losing battle.

 

 

 

As the doors to the sanatorium closed hours later, you took one final look at the photograph above your bed before the nurse had a chance to darken the room to where it would become impossible to see the one thing that kept you sane in this building. Shifting to your side, as your back was becoming too uncomfortable to rest upon, you attempted to sleep that night as the nurses would try to come in and out of the room to spontaneously do bed checks. You figured it would be a night like all the others in that hospital…until you felt someone gently rouse you from your sleep sometime later. 

Honestly, it wasn’t startling. You just assumed it was a nurse come to check on you again as your bed sweating was getting obsessive, and they had to sometimes change the clothes you wore and the covers. However, much to your surprise, you found it to be your husband, who was quick to shush you if you dared say his name. He probably worried of startling you as he had his hood up and in place, apparently having snuck into the hospital after closing hours. 

“Come with me, (Y/N),” Jacob urged in a soft whisper, pulling you cautiously from the covers and stuffing the pillows and such under the covers so the nurses wouldn’t be the wiser. 

You found your feet, putting on some shoes with Jacob’s help and hurrying through the hallways in a plotted out means to show that Jacob had obviously memorized the nurse’s and doctor’s patrols. He was quick to reach the exit in fear you might cough and get you both caught. 

The world was still very much in the embrace of winter, but Jacob was quick to move you under his arm and close to his chest with his trench coat attempting to keep you warm. “Where are we going?” you asked, hurrying with him best you were able. 

“Out,” Jacob answered simply, hurrying through the cold streets of London at a brisk pace. 

You found Jacob had decided to take you to a local bar at the very least (regardless of the obvious nightwear you had on), and he insisted you sit down beside him. The idea of food wasn’t all that appealing, you had to admit, and you shook your head to him at the vague thought that was why he brought you there. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring you here for that,” he admitted in a whisper, letting the piano music deter his words from being heard by any other patrons in the room. “I just thought it would be nice to get you out of there for a moment.” 

You frowned, searching Jacob’s face for his true intentions in the matter. 

Jacob laughed almost bitterly. “They said fresh air, exercise, and a good diet would heal you, right?” 

“Jacob…” you sighed, “I know that…I am dying…” 

“Bloody hell, don’t say that!” Jacob hissed through his teeth, his fists clenched tightly upon the table he sat before. When you refused to take back your words, he gripped onto your chin to get you to look at him. “You are going to get through this, alright?” When you didn’t answer him to reassure his worries, you saw the Assassin’s eyes shine with the hint of tears as his lips trembled upon speaking again. “I can’t…” Your back straightened at his words he was attempting to spare you. “…I can’t imagine living without you, (Y/N)…” 

“And you think me dying knowing you will be here as you are is exactly comforting?” you asked, equally hurt over the hand you both had been dealt. “I don’t want to go where you are not, Jacob Frye…” 

When you said such a thing, Jacob stalled—as if to be sure of his next course of action. It was then he acted, and Jacob’s lips found yours in a desperate need to taste of your love once more no matter the cost. 

Your heart nearly stopped right in your chest as you attempted to try and push him off only to be reminded of how much stronger he was compared to you as he insisted on kissing you. “J-Jacob—Stop! Don’t!” you urged between breaths, grabbing onto his wrists to try and halt his actions. “What are you doing!” you exclaimed between you both, shaking your head in disbelief. “You-You’re a God damn fool…! You’re going to get infected as I am…!” 

“Let me have this, (Y/N),” Jacob pleaded, resting his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes to let his decision in the matter sink in. “I’ve not been able to kiss you for months…I don’t want to continue living without you…if you die, then I will follow…” He slowly shook his head with a nasally sigh. “I married you for a reason…I couldn’t bear the thought of you not in my life.” 

Your body quivered as you began to cry inaudibly over his words. “But I don’t want you to die.” Your voice was strained and it hurt with every gasping inhale you took when sobbing. “I want us to be back home…healthy…happy…not fearing if I’ll even open my eyes tomorrow…” 

Obviously, Jacob couldn’t find a response to such a wish. He brought you close to his chest and hugged you reassuringly that things were going to be okay while casually rubbing your upper back.

 

\--

 

As you feared and predicted, Jacob ended up sharing the same hospital room as you in a matter of weeks. Jacob wasn’t shocked or anything of the nature, as he kissed you for that reason that night—he wanted to get sick with you. However, given his older, malnourished body, he was almost in a worse state than you in a matter of no time at all. You weren’t even aware he was malnourished, but the doctor’s explained that it probably happened when he was sacrificing food to let you eat whenever money was tight or food was light. 

Given your relation, the patient in the bed to the right of you was moved to another free one, and Jacob was given it instead, allowing you to be closer to one another. The beds weren’t exactly close enough to where you could whisper to one another or hold hands, but when the nurses weren’t looking or paying mind to you both, Jacob would move back to the chair he usually sat in before to keep an eye on you. 

He never looked so frail before…Jacob’s eyes were heavier with exhaustion and he had lost a lot of weight to the point his face hardly even looked like him. You worried more of his health than you did your own. He did try to eat around you in hopes of encouraging you, but you could tell it was becoming as much of a struggle for him as it was for you. 

Reaching your hand to his from where he sat across from you, you held onto his hand tightly. “Please,” you begged, closing your eyes tightly, “don’t leave me…” 

“I don’t plan on it, princess,” he answered wearily, checking again to be sure the nurses weren’t watching before moving to kiss the corner of your mouth. “My place is with you…always has been…” 

You wished you could take comfort in that thought, but you couldn’t. No matter who went first, it wouldn’t be easy for either of you. 

As depressing as the situation was, having Jacob beside you constantly was reassuring and felt a bit like home again. It was nice waking up to him every morning and going to bed with him every night. Jacob did decide to take a small nap during the quiet hours one day, and you could only nod in understanding. His body was older and this disease was further unkind for the abuse he put it through. During the minutes, you took to the book you had been reading and tried to ease your mind from the pain in your body. Upon doing so, you couldn’t help but become paranoid as Jacob’s rather gentle snoring suddenly came to a slow cease. 

Closing the book, you moved to your bare feet and hurried over to Jacob’s bedside to gently shake him. “Jacob?” you called, wondering if he just went into a deeper sleep of some sort. 

Jacob didn’t respond. He remained rigid there upon his side. 

“Jacob…! Come on,” you insisted with a weak laugh. “Get up…!” 

Again, he didn’t respond, and it had your weak heart racing. You shook him a bit harder this time, calling out his name again and again to the point one of the nurses heard you and scolded you as you were supposed to be relaxing your lungs. “(Y/N)!” she chastised, hurrying over towards you. “You must be silent for forty more minutes!” 

“It’s Jacob!” you began in a teary panic, turning to her then. “He’s not moving! I don’t even think he’s breathing!” 

The nurse urged you out of the way as she checked Jacob’s parted lips with her hand to see if he was indeed not breathing with her palm only inches from his mouth to realize there was no air coming from him. “Get the doctor!” she urged to one of the other nearby women working in the facility. 

“Jacob!” you cried out tearfully, trying to reach him only to have one of the women pull you back and away. “What is wrong with him!” 

“He’s not breathing, (Y/N),” explained the nurse who kept a firm hold on you. 

The mere thought that Jacob was dying or already dead made you panic. “ ** _Save him then!_** ” you screamed, only to watch in horror as he was pulled from your side in attempts to do so. You wanted to go with him, but you were forced back into your bed to wait whatever outcome there may be. 

He was announced dead upon arriving to the doctor’s office. It was a mixture of things—heart failure and asphyxiation. It broke your heart to know he possibly died an even worse death in those last few moments with his heart and lungs collapsing under themselves as they had. 

“I want to see him,” you pleaded with the nurses who had brought you the somber news. 

“There is no point, (Y/N),” one of the women insisted, trying to dissuade your actions. “He is but a mere body—.” 

“I want to see him!’ you ordered, chest aching at the thought Jacob was gone…he was truly gone and now, as they said, a mere corpse. However, you would hate yourself for days to come if you didn’t at least look upon him one last time. 

Biting at her lower lip, one of the nurses urged you to your feet. “Come on then…” You could tell she was reluctant to the idea but sympathetic to your plea all the same. Upon you finding your feet, she guided you to the storage room he was in for his body to be disposed of out of sight of the others, which were still healing and holding onto hope. 

It was an ungodly sight to behold. Jacob was lying there as though he were sleeping and while his hand was exposed beyond the covers that had him, you tried to find comfort in touching his slightly curved fingers only to jerk your hand away eagerly as it felt lifeless. He wasn’t there anymore, and bringing your hand to your chest, your body quivered in dismay that your husband was gone all in a desire to not live in this world without you. 

Your hand moved to his hair to fondle with the pieces ever so gently before finding the courage within you to kiss upon his cheek. The fact Jacob didn’t move or even flinch at your actions broke your heart all the more, making you realize he was truly dead. “How will I live now…?” you asked between heavy gasps. Tears blurring your vision, you looked upward with a howl of a moan. “God, just take me now…please…!”

 

\--

 

But no such act of mercy came. The days were equally cruel and unkind as you lay in your bed with no desire to continue living. The nurses and even the doctors tried their best to aid you back to the world of the living, but you acted out against their kindness—threw the food to waste on the floor, denied their checkups, slept only indoors as often as possible and never moved an inch from where you slept. 

“She’s just given up,” you remembered one of the nurses whispering to the doctor with a somber sigh. 

“It was bound to happen with a husband and wife,” the doctor explained. “It’s a dove effect—one cannot and will not live without the other. She will die in a week or two and join him shortly.” He sighed, and you heard him possibly shrug. “But we should not grieve it, for it is what she wants.” 

The storm that was raging late after hours that evening was oddly soothing and granted you moments to look upon the picture of Jacob and yourself once more whenever the lightning lit up the space. It was all you had…all you had was a rubbish photograph of the man you loved and a few memories, which would no doubt fade in time. Would they all even truly be enough? 

Moving the picture closer to your face upon the pillow, you gazed to the empty chair Jacob used to sit in to watch you now and again and sighed at the memories of him being there. You would give anything to see him sitting there again…watching you…making sure you were fine. 

Eyes growing heavy, you slowly closed them to try and find rest for the evening but were apparently startled upon another loud bang of thunder. As your weary sight focused, you swore you saw someone sitting in the chair that Jacob used to be within, and it was there you narrowed your eyes to try and get a better picture of the person. The figure’s outline was easily noticeable upon the next flash of lightning, and you gasped a ragged and horrible gasp upon noticing it. 

“J-Jacob…is that you…?” you asked eagerly, causing the man to look to you curiously—as if confused to you speaking to him. 

His lips apparently moved, but you heard nothing from them. Was it a dream…a hallucination…was it a spirit? All the same, you couldn’t help but tearfully smile at his presence as he got up from where he was sitting to venture closer to you. Jacob appeared healthy as he stood beside you, and you smiled a weary, defeated smile to him. 

“I can’t do this anymore…” you whispered pitifully, shaking your head to the best of your ability. “I can’t live like this…I can’t live without you…” 

Again, his lips moved, but you couldn’t make out a single thing he said. It was like the two of you were in two different worlds, only able to see one another. It had to be a dream then…it had to…but how would you forget your own lover’s voice in your dreams? 

It was then Jacob held out his hand for you to take, and without hesitation on the matter, you wearily reached for this illusion of him. You felt as though something were pulled from you…like a weight was removed from your soul and it was there you took in a deep breath upon standing and realized how easy it was to breathe again. Your chest no longer ached and neither did your legs and back…it was as though this dream healed you. 

“I don’t…I don’t feel in pain…” you stammered in disbelief, feeling Jacob’s lips kiss you to bring you back to yourself for a moment. 

“And you won’t here with me, love,” Jacob admitted to you, prompting you to feel reprieve that you were able to hear him yet again unlike before. “This I promise you.”


End file.
